


Tom Riddle - The First Year

by sunnywithclouds



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Chamber of Secrets, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Year One, Hufflepuff, Multi, Pre-Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Tom Riddle goes to Hogwarts, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnywithclouds/pseuds/sunnywithclouds
Summary: It's Tom's first year at Hogwarts and he has no idea what to expect...  As someone who has always known there was something different about himself, it was still a shock to find out what that something was.And to be honest he may be a little disappointed that there seems to be so many others who can also do magic.  And much better magic than he can.He knows that to survive at Hogwarts he will have to swallow his pride and his ego.  He'll have to find other ways to temper his anger and rage with the world.He will have to try and find a way to be accepted by his peers, and to find admiration in his professors.This is no easy task for him, but more than he wants his pride, he wants the power that he's sure will come from mastering magic.
Relationships: Abraxas Malfoy/Tom Riddle, Nott Sr. & Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle/Rosier Sr., platonic - Relationship
Kudos: 4





	Tom Riddle - The First Year

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been fascinated with Tom Riddle and his time at Hogwarts. While I like to think I'm ambitious enough to actually write out every single year from start to finish, I know that it's likely a pipe dream. ;) But I do want to write about his time at Hogwarts, so I'm starting with this very first little bit. And we'll see where it takes me.
> 
> PLANS- I will create works for each of his seven years at Hogwarts and will add chapters and such to them as inspirations hits. There is no planned arc to these as I just want to explore the ideas with our known facts about his time in school and add in my own thoughts and desires for what he did while there.  
> This is definitely a pet project, please go in with limited expectations if you want to read this and any other fics of mine labelled as a year of Tom in school. ;) <3
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------

The sun was still slanted, still rosy pinkish in colour coming through the grimy window of his room when Tom decided he would set out. He had waited until a week before the date on his letter said he would leave for Hogwarts to buy his things. Waiting had been a safety precaution, he hadn't wanted to pin his hopes on this place, this magical school, when he hadn't been sure about Dumbledore's integrity. There was a hundred, maybe a thousand, different reasons to not believe that man, starting from the twinkle in his eye when he spoke, to the way he just accepted what Tom felt were amazing attributes of himself without blinking an eye.

But most of all, as someone who was so used to disappointment, he knew better than to plan more than a week in advance.

The days drifted by, however, with no one seeming to thinking twice about the fact that he was leaving for this school. He hadn't told anyone it was a magic school, but Mrs Cole seemed perfectly convinced that he was leaving for Hogwarts at the end of the summer. Maybe too brightly convinced and too happy. But he understood. She didn't want him there, he was frightening, he did things to the others, no one was at ease around him there. Child or adult alike. 

He hadn't slept much the night before, reading and re-reading the notes, the lists of what he would need, the names of the stores so carefully spelled out in a thin slanting script that seemed to dance across the page. He was up at dawn, washed and dressed in what he considered his best clothes. A shirt that wasn't stained, though it was dingy from being washed with dark things, and pants that had only one patch on the backside. He slipped out of his room and down the hall, dodging the few people who were awake and getting the orphanage ready for the day. His stomach growled but he ignored it, placating himself that perhaps if he spent the money Dumbledore had given him well enough, he might be able to buy something to eat from this Diagon Alley. Something more fitting with what would be his new life.

He pondered the idea of magical food as he walked down the quiet streets. He ignored the buses, having only the wizard coins in his pocket and no bus would take them. Besides, he had legs to walk instead of spending money on a bus. But what would magical food be? Would it float? Would it make him float when he ate it? Would it be rainbow in colour? Would they have other animals to eat aside from pigs and cows and birds? What about candy? He'd hardly had any candy to speak of in his life before this, would he be able to get wizard candy somehow? If such a thing existed...

He paused on the street, his mouth watering as he realized he really was starving no matter how he tried to ignore it, and thinking so many thoughts about magical food wasn't helping.. He could smell fresh bread and the sweet scent of fried doughnuts from a bakery nearby and his hand shifted, clinking the coins in the pouch Dumbledore had given him from the outside of it. The velvet fabric was warm and soft over the hard facets of the money inside. Dumbledore had specifically told him this was Wizard World money. It would do him no good in the bakery no matter how much he wanted to try.

Resolutely he turned away and continued on his trek, watching as the light grew golden in colour, then thinned to a more lemon yellow as he neared his destination. His steps slowed as he came to the right street, his brow furrowed in a serious look that the other children called scary. Tom didn't mean to be scary when he looked like this, he supposed he just liked to concentrate, as he was doing now to try and find the place Dumbledore had told him about. The place only Wizards and Witches could see. 

He walked down the street slowly on one side, studying every nook and cranny he found, trying to find what he assumed was a secret entrance into the Leaky Cauldron place. Finding nothing on that side except for an overturned dustbin and a mangy cat that hissed at him, he started down the other side, which yielded even less results. 

“I must have missed something.” Tom murmured to himself and tried again, retracing his footsteps even more slowly up and down the street, trying to ignore the knot of panic starting to rise in his chest, with a tinge of anger not far under that. Was Dumbledore actually lying? Was he standing somewhere watching him and laughing? The poor little orphan, tricked into thinking he was somehow special. Wandering up and down the street searching for a secret entrance to a secret Wizarding World.

On his fourth pass down one side of the street a door flew open and Tom jumped back in surprise, wheeling around to look up and see a gangly, rather bent looking man in an old fashioned nightshirt and cap. Tom tried not to stare at the man's skinny bare legs, nor at the tails of his nightshirt flapping around them. 

“See here, boy!” The man spoke in a reedy, slightly wheezy voice that still seemed to boom at him in the quiet street. “You're prowling the street like the blasted cat that thinks it owns the place. What are you so bent on finding that you can't give it up for lost?”

“The Leaky Cauldron.” Tom blurted out without thinking, then clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say it, but the man had startled him half out of his skin and his entire appearance was so preposterous.

“Hey?” The man made a scoffing noise, then with a twiggy broom Tom hadn't seen him holding, he banged a sign above the door. “Can't read?”

Looking up, Tom's eyes went wide as he saw the sign, clearly spelling out 'The Leaky Cauldron' right there. He'd walked past it over and over again without even realizing.

“You Muggle Born?” The old man asked, his head cocked to the side. “Where's your parents?”

“Haven't got any. And I don't know what you're asking.” Tom drew himself up a bit, squaring his shoulders, his face turning aloof. He was embarrassed by his mistake and mad he didn't understand the words this man was saying. 

“Harumph.” It was a sound more than a word and the crazy man backed into the pub again but held the door open. “Come in if you are. Bound for Diagon Alley, I s'pose?” He looked back at Tom who nodded at him, following him into the bar area where there were dusty tables, a dusty bar, but a merrily burning fire in a massive fire place like nothing he'd ever seen before.

“You could fit a whole man in there.” Tom said, pointing to the fireplace, but made a face when the old man laughed. “It wasn't meant to be funny.”

“But it was. Fireplace needs to be big enough for a man.” He moved behind the bar, still in his nightshirt, though he removed the cap and put on an apron. “You'll have to wait. Stores won't be open yet and I won't be sending an unaccompanied little boy in there. Sit down, pr'aps get you something to eat?”

Tom sat, though he didn't want to. Not after being called 'little boy' like it was something terrible or dangerous. What harm could he do to a bunch of closed shops anyways? But the mention of food made him finger the bag of coins again, his lips scrunching to one side and then the other before he shook his head.

“I can hear your stomach rumble from here. Swear and it was that which woke me up.” He set his hands on the bar top and looked at the small dark boy there across from him. “What's your name?”

“Tom.” Tom rubbed his nose, not looking up and rather worried his resolve would drop, and then what?

“Well. Funny thing, that's my name as well. And I have a rule about other Tom's what come in here. Let them eat for free.”

Tom's head jerked up then, looking at the bar man rather curiously, but he hardened his eyes as he spoke to him directly, trying to force him to tell the truth. “You're making that up.”

'Maybe I am and maybe I'm not, no way for you to know. But I'm telling you right now that Toms eat for free. Can't force you to eat but I can offer, think it's my right to do as I please in my own establishment.”

He wanted to eat, more than anything. But he also did not want to be indebted to this very strange man in his nightshirt and apron. He had a hard time believing that he was anything magical at all. Dumbledore had looked it in his suit, his hair, the glint in his eyes and even the way he moved reeked of something 'else'. This man, however, this 'Tom' was like anyone you'd find in any town in any part of the country. Common. Simple. Like the name they shared, which he detested. But yet, he held the key to Diagon Alley, didn't he. He must be something of importance.

“Alright then.” Tom said evenly to the older man, lifting his head a little straighter and regarding him with a slightly different view. 

The elder Tom harumph'd again and went into the kitchen, leaving the younger Tom to look around again. 

He slid off the bar stool and wandered without direction through the quiet, open area. Everything looked very normal on the surface, dusty, drab, simple. But when you looked closer you saw the differences. Gargoyles stood on either side of the giant fireplace, massive stone creatures that had eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went in the room. The tables, though having seen better days, were carved so intricately they would have put any antique enthusiast's collection to shame in the normal world. And perhaps most entrancing were the paintings on the walls. Coated in a layer of grime that Tom had to use a sleeve just to clear a small round spot to peek at, they seemed ordinary, but Tom jumped back with a gasp when a figure actually moved into the clear space, peering out at Tom with squinting eyes like it was the first he'd been seeing light in years. 

“I expected changes!” The man in the painting said, his voice small but robust at the same time. “Looks exactly as it did before. Cover me back up, good chap, unless you could see clear to clean the whole thing. Won't do to have just this little spot, calling attention to the sorry state of things.”

Tom hesitated for a moment, looking across to where the other Tom had disappeared into the kitchen. There was a great deal of clanking going on so he thought it was safe for him to do as he liked for a few moments. 

He moved to get a chair that looked fairly sturdy, bringing it back to the portrait to climb up onto and continue wiping down the painting. He half held his breath as he uncovered it, jumping a little every time the man inside of it moved to a new clear spot he'd made, following the work of his shirt sleeve.

“There's a lad.” The man in the painting said admiringly, smiling at Tom and settling into a chair as his small head turned to observe the rest of the Leaky Cauldron. “Really is the same, though. I say, who are you?”

“I'm Tom.” Tom said, trying to clean the dust off his shirt and pay rapt attention to the man in the painting. “Who are you?”

“Mendel Mordrid. Have you never heard of me?” Mendel tutted when Tom shook his head. “New generation teaches their children nothing.”

“I haven't parents to teach me.” Tom said, frowning at Mendel, his brows drawing in tightly at the top of his nose. He hated having to inform people of this, and now it was the second time in quick succession he'd needed to. 

“Ah! My mistake, dear Tom, my mistake. Forgive an old man, I haven't had words with anyone in longer than I can remember. It's made me a little less than tactful, to be sure.”

Tom hesitated, part of him wanted to continue to be angry at Mendel and extract a few more apologies, but he heard plates being moved in the kitchen which seemed to speak of food coming shortly. “I better get down.”

“Come back sometime, dear Tom. Share a word with me when you have a moment, I always like a good chat. Should like to help you find your parents, I'm sure they haven't gone far.”

Tom was already putting the chair back and he didn't catch the last of what Mendel said. If he had he likely would have ripped the portrait from the wall, whether it was any of his business to do so or not. 

As he slid back onto the tall chair at the bar, the elder Tom came back with two plates. He set one before Tom and then sat down with his own. 

He was, it had to be said, slightly disappointed that his plate contained eggs, bacon and toast. There was heaps of all of it, amounts which he never had in the orphanage, but it was still just eggs, bacon and toast. Same as he could have had in the muggle world.

He caught the elder Tom looking at him and while normally he wouldn't do something just to please another person, he did begin to eat which seemed to settle the older man to move his eyes away from him. The only reason he was being so cautious was that he was starving and he worried that any display of ingratitude would likely mean the removal of the plate.

“Ah... That's better, that's better. Always feel my soul replenished after breakfast.” Elder Tom said once he was finished, leaning back in his chair and patting his belly. He glanced up at the clock, then back to the small boy and nodded his head. “Once you're done it'll be fine for you to head in and shop. I'll show you how to get in but I shan't be wasting my day trailing after you to explain everything.

“I don't need any help.” Tom replied sharply, sliding off his stool and straightening his shirt with a hard tug and withering glance. He paused ever so slightly after a moment and forced his tone to soften. “I am grateful for the breakfast you made. It was very good.”

He hated having to thank him. But he knew better than to slight someone who had managed to fix all of his problems so far that morning. He took solace in the fact that once he knew all of this, he'd never need his help again.

“Y'do need my help, as it happens, boy. Until you get yourself a wand you can't get into Diagon Alley on your own.”

The elder Tom harumph'd himself out of the chair and through the back door, holding a longish stick in his hand. It looked different than he expected. So simple and sturdy and plain, he had though perhaps wizard wands would be spectacular and divine creations of gemstone and wood or metal. 

But even he decided it didn't matter as he watched the elder Tom who reached his wand out and tapped a well worn brick and the wall started to move.

It actually started to move! All the bricks seemed to turn and flow into themselves, parting the way through a solid wall to what looked like a whole town on the other side.

“Wow...” Tom breathed the word out, his eyes shining. If he had been aware of the clear amazement and happiness on his face he would have immediately affixed a scowl there in it's place. But as he was not aware, the look of wonder stayed and the elder Tom was rather satisfied with seeing it.

“Mind you stay out of trouble.” He grumbled, smiling all the same as he went back into the Leaky Cauldron.

Tom stood where he was for a few moments, his palms tingling in anticipation, eyes feasting on the display before him. 

And then he stepped forward into Diagon Alley, and into the new world that was to be his.


End file.
